


Art History 101

by cresswells



Series: Lessons in Secret-Keeping [8]
Category: Bloodlines Series - Richelle Mead
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-09
Updated: 2013-09-09
Packaged: 2017-12-26 04:06:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/961373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cresswells/pseuds/cresswells
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Adrian takes Sydney out for their second date.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Art History 101

I hadn't visited Adrian's college since he'd first enrolled here, so I wasn't sure what to expect. But when he'd casually mentioned during one of our clandestine afternoons that one of his professors was delivering a free-to-the-public lecture on Classical Art, I'd jumped at the chance to escape from Amberwood for a few hours. Attending a college lecture was a reasonable excuse to give Zoe, and since she'd never understood my fascination with ancient civilisations (she scoffed at the idea of referring to any society before Christianity and the Alchemists as 'civilisation'), I'd known she wouldn't want to join me.

Adrian's art teacher, who introduced himself as Professor Roberts, was a fascinating, if grouchy, man. He clearly knew a lot about his subject – Hellenistic art and its influence on later classical artistic works – and although he came off as slightly bitter and standoffish, he spoke in a slow, deep voice that you couldn't help but be pulled in by.

I'd been surprised when Adrian suggested we attend this event. Our first date might have been at a museum, but I knew that learning for fun wasn't Adrian's thing. Now, though, I thought I understood. It occurred to me that if it weren't for the fact that one was a tweed-wearing, no-nonsense art professor and the other was a slightly insane Chihuahua trainer, he and Wolfe would probably get along well. Both were excellent storytellers.

As fascinating as I found the lecture, though, I couldn't help but glance sideways at Adrian every few minutes. He was listening to his professor and wearing a look of deep concentration, but every so often he would glance at me, too. He'd reached for my hand almost as soon as we sat down, and when he caught me watching him he'd brush his thumb across my knuckles and grin. That smug grin combined with his devilish fingers tracing mine made it difficult to remember to breathe evenly.

The lecture ended with a smattering of applause from the audience. I waited the appropriate amount of time before making a beeline for the refreshments table where a waitress was just setting up a portable coffee machine. Since Zoe had arrived in Palm Springs, my excursions outside Amberwood had been cut back, and as a result I was in serious need of a coffee fix. Even cheap college coffee would do.

But I'd barely had time to fill my cup before Adrian reached out to me. "Come on," he said, luring me away from the free coffee. "There's some people I want you to meet."

I followed him curiously. Adrian had mentioned his fellow art students to me in passing a few times, but he'd never actually referred to any of them by name up until the incident with Rowena last week, and I got the feeling that despite his stellar social skills he didn't spend much time with any of his classmates outside of the college. So when Adrian pulled me into the throng of art enthusiasts, I was a little apprehensive. Then he dragged me towards the stage where Professor Roberts still stood scowling as he meticulously rearranged his lecture notes.

"Nigel," Adrian said cheerfully, slapping the haughty professor on the back as if they were old friends.

I expected Professor Roberts to be indignant, and mentally prepared myself to begin damage control, but as soon as he saw Adrian, his grimace transformed. It was like watching the Grinch become Santa Claus. There was no trace of the grumpy old man from the podium in his gleaming eyes and genuinely warm smile. "Adrian, my young man!" he said jovially. Even his voice had transformed. "Good of you to come! How'd you enjoy the lecture?"

"It was kind of dull," Adrian said unabashedly. "Except for the bits on the Etruscans." He grinned down at me, slyly. "I'm a big fan of them. Saw a lot of their art last month at the Getty Villa."

I watched their interaction in awe. I shouldn't have been surprised, really. Adrian Ivashkov was born with the innate ability to charm the pants off of everyone he met. Myself quite literally included.

Professor Roberts' smile settled on me. His eyes flickered down to the lily on my cheek. "Ah," he said. He glanced back to Adrian and some unspoken message seemed to pass between them in the look they shared.

"Nigel Roberts," he said, extending his hand to me. "It's a pleasure to meet you, miss."

"Sydney Sage," I said as I shook his hand.

Professor Roberts nodded approvingly, as though I'd just revealed something significant about myself. "A good name," he said. "Lyrical. Expressive." He looked meaningfully at Adrian again. "Names like that really draw in buyers."

Adrian rolled his eyes. "Not this again."

I frowned, confused. "Not what?"

"It's nothing," Adrian said quickly.

Professor Roberts snorted loudly. A few nearby art students looked up, as though horrified to hear such an uncouth sound emitted by their idol.

Adrian sighed and squeezed my hand. "Nigel thinks some of my paintings would sell. He's offered to help me put together a portfolio, but…"

I gasped. "Adrian! That's great! Why didn't you tell me?"

Professor Roberts snorted again. "Because he's a prat, that's why."

Adrian glanced down at me. He twisted his fingers with mine. "The paintings Nigel thinks would sell are kind of… personal," he said hesitantly. "I'm not interested in parting with them just yet. Maybe someday..."

"All art is personal, boy," Professor Roberts growled. He was back to sounding like the bitter old man from the podium. "If you can't part with a few experimental college pieces, you'll never sell a damn thing in your whole life. Anyway, from the looks of it, you don't need those paintings anymore. Not now you've got the real thing." He gestured to me.

I felt heat rise in my cheeks. I knew he'd painted my lily before, but Professor Roberts made it sound as though Adrian had multiple paintings of me.

"Adrian," I said sternly. "This is the opportunity you've been waiting your whole life for. If you don't seize it now, you'll always regret it." I gave him a significant look. "You've taught me a thing or two about taking chances."

Adrian smiled, running a hand through his hair. "You're right," he said after a long pause. "I really do want this. It's just... those paintings mean a lot to me... but you're right, of course you're right –"

We both heard a groan and turned to see Professor Roberts rolling his eyes. "I've been going about this all wrong," he said in a gruff voice, though there was a twinkle in his eye. "I've been trying to persuade him all week with promises of potential buyers and exposure at a major art show, and all he says is that he'll 'consider it'. But throw in a little persuasion from a pretty girl and he's suddenly on board."

"Not just _any_ pretty girl," Adrian protested, looking slightly abashed. His professor made a dismissive sound as he bent to pick up his briefcase.

"Stay behind after my lecture tomorrow and we can discuss it then," the professor said. He straightened and turned back to us. "Sydney Sage, it's been a pleasure," he said, all warmth again as he rested a hand familiarly on my shoulder. "You keep this boy close. There's nothing worse than when a decent artist loses his muse."

He slapped Adrian on the back, and shuffled away into the crowd. We watched him go.

"I can't believe you considered throwing away an opportunity like that," I said, shaking my head. "What were you thinking?"

Adrian's smile faltered and he lowered his head, unable to meet my eyes. "We haven't had many chances to be together recently," he said. "And since November, all I've been able to paint is you. I know it's stupid, but when I'm surrounded by those paintings, you seem closer to me. Like there's some part of you with me, in the canvas. I didn't want to lose another connection to you."

My heart twisted painfully in my chest. The separation was hard on me too, but Adrian seemed to be taking it so much worse – probably because since Zoe's arrival he'd seen a lot less of _all_ of us.

"You won't lose me," I told him, pressing my hands against his cheeks. His eyes met mine. "Not the real me. This separation won't last forever. I'm here to stay."

I kissed him softly, mindful of propriety, but also revelling in the simple fact that I could show my affection for him here, in a public place, surrounded by strangers. He wrapped his arms around me and I found myself debating just how long a public kiss could last before it was considered inappropriate when I heard a sharp wolf whistle from alarmingly close by. I pulled away to see a short, dark-haired girl smirking at us.

"Hey, Melrose," the girl said. "Are you going to introduce me to the second-prettiest girl in the room?"

Adrian's melancholy faded in an instant as he leered back at her. "Might want to get your eyes checked, Clark. My girl isn't second at anything."

The girl uncrossed her arms. "Rowena Clark," she said, offering her hand. "Melrose and I share a few classes." She glanced at my cheek and gave Adrian a significant look. "Nice tat."

I shook her hand. "Sydney Sage," I said. "It's nice to meet you. Adrian's mentioned you before." I'd heard a lot about Rowena since the incident in Adrian's art class last week. I wanted to ask her if her hand was okay, but I knew she'd find the question strange.

She smiled. "Likewise," she said. "No offense, but I think I've heard a little _too_ much about you." She jabbed a thumb in Adrian's direction. "It's hard to dredge up inspiration for a new project with this guy next to you, sighing over his tenth painting of a lily in a single hour."

Adrian looked affronted. "I don't _sigh_ ," he protested.

"Please," Rowena scoffed. "You're worse than a thirteen year old girl."

I laughed at Adrian's expression of mock outrage, instantly charmed by Rowena. Anyone who could get Adrian out of one of his low moods so easily was a friend of mine. I asked if she'd like to join us at the ice-cream bar across the road, but Rowena shook her head and patted me on the arm. "I'm actually heading home," she said. "Just wanted to say hi. Melrose, I'll see you tomorrow. Sydney, you let me know if you ever get tired of pretty, rich boys, okay? I could use a muse of my own."

I spluttered as she winked and sauntered off. Adrian smirked. "She's a little... straightforward."

"You can say that again." I drained the last of my coffee and tugged him back to the refreshments table. "She seems nice, though."

He nodded. "Yeah, she's a really great friend. She reminds me a lot of Rose." I glanced up at him, curiously. There was no sadness in his voice. He noticed my look and squeezed my hand. " _Before_ she broke my heart," he clarified. "If our relationship hadn't been such a disaster, I think we could have been good friends."

"You still could be," I said quietly. I wasn't used to this new Adrian, who spoke so easily of the girl who broke his heart, but I liked it. I still considered Rose to be a friend – perhaps one of my closest friends, now that I'd turned my back on the Alchemists.

He shrugged. "I don't know if that's possible for us. I still remember how it felt to be betrayed by her, even if it doesn't hurt anymore."

I didn't push the issue. Adrian poured a coffee and handed it to me. I took a sip and grimaced. "Instant," I said, wrinkling my nose as I took another sip. Adrian laughed, shaking his head at my coffee snobbery.

"So," he said later, as we drifted out of the ice-cream bar (I'd gotten a mouth-wateringly good raspberry gelato, and he was still clutching a cone on which three ridiculously-named flavours of ice-cream were piled precariously high). "How was this for a second date? Better or worse than the textile museum date with Brian?"

"Brayden," I corrected instantly. He grinned and nudged me. "And it's better. Much better." I laughed. "Better company, for one thing."

Adrian beamed and stood a little straighter.

"You don't have to do this, you know." At his frown, I gestured back to the auditorium. "You don't have to take me to museums and art talks and try to impress me every time we go out." I caught his hand in mine again. It seemed like every moment I wasn't touching him in some way was a moment wasted. "I know that that talk wasn't your idea of fun, and that tonight wasn't your idea of a normal date.," I explained. "We can do other things, too. That's fine."

Adrian shook his head, bemused. "I brought you here because I thought you'd like it, not because I'm trying to impress you," he said. "I'm not a complete arse like _Brayden_." He gestured with his ice-cream to the building we'd just exited. "We've done one thing you like, and we've done one thing I like. That's how dating works."

I laughed, remembering the fondue restaurant he'd taken me to after our first date in the Getty Villa. "Is this always going to be your choice of activity?" I teased. "Food?"

"Not always," he said seriously. "I want to take you dancing someday." The one dance we'd shared at Sonya's wedding flashed through my mind, and I shivered. He'd been a very good dancer. Almost subconsciously, I leaned closer to him, remembering the electricity between us that night, but a sudden wet and icy cold sensation on my arm made me jump backwards in alarm.

Adrian laughed at my reaction, and I looked down to see that his ice-cream had dripped onto my arm, leaving a sticky pink mark. "Eew," I complained, rubbing it off.

"Uh-oh," said Adrian, his playful humour returning. "My ice-cream is melting too fast for me to eat it all by myself." He gave me an exaggerated look of despair. "If only I had someone to share it with."

"You're ridiculous," I told him, shaking my head.

"You love it," he accused, leaning in close. Before I could squirm away, he dipped down and deliberately tapped me on the nose with his ice-cream cone. I felt the ice-cream drip onto my face and squealed, half-laughing, half-shrieking like a madwoman. He grinned and kissed my nose, then my chin, and then my lips, until we were both laughing so hard it was impossible to kiss each other properly.

I tugged him by the hand again, pulling us both into a shadowy nook just outside the campus.

Our ice-creams were forgotten pretty quickly after that.


End file.
